Chapter Text
Steve Rogers sat at the desk in his single room at his computer, already taking notes. Classes had not started yet at UC Monterey, but the young man was not leaving anything up to chance. Really he had not been leaving anything up to chance since he was a freshman. He had no money, and the more time he spent in school the more he and his mother would be in debt, and there was no way he would let that happen. Now he was a junior with senior standing, having spent the last three years taking two, three and even four extra classes each quarter, in order to graduate early and start medical school. He was a member of Sigma Mu, the premed fraternity, as well as the BioChem Study Club, the baseball team, and the student newspaper, City in the Woods Press, where he drew comics. On top of all that this year he was trying his hand at being an Residential Advisor, because then he would not have to pay for housing or a food plan.
He always tried hard, he always wanted to help, he always wanted to be as good as he could be. He always followed the rules. He always did the right thing.
He had been assigned the second and third floors of Guass House, one of nine residential dorm buildings on Science Hill at UC Monterey. He had eight upperclassmen, and a handful of freshman, who would be arriving for first-year orientation soon. He had mere minutes to cram in some reading before parents would be walking the halls with their kids, and students would be lugging boxes up the stairs and fighting over beds and awkwardly meeting new roommates. He checked all the rooms under his purview beforehand to make sure all the furniture was there, but he knew that someone would be knocking on his door because there was no desk chair, or no mattress.
There was a knock on his door, which was propped open to the hall. No! Too soon! There can’t be freshman already! He turned around and was greeted by the sight of a very tall, very broad, very blond man standing in his doorway with one bag. Too big to be a freshman.
“I think you’re in my room,” said the intruder.
Steve stared at the man. It was 9:00 in the morning. The sun shone brightly from the window opposite the tall, broad, blond man and illuminated his tall, broad, blondness. Steve had been in this room for the whole weekend, moving in and preparing and settling into the dorm. He had also been psyching himself up to have students arrive at 10, and to not know where their rooms were; never in his wildest preparations had he expected early students telling him he was in the wrong place. He had also been expecting freshman. Gross, misshapen, awkward freshman. What in god’s name was this? This godlike monstrosity?
“I’m pretty sure this is my room,” the man tried again, shaking Steve from his stupor.
“No, no. I’m the RA here. This is my room.”
“I thought the room with the RA plaque would be your room then?”
“This is the room with the—“
Steve realized that he did not know whether or not his door had the RA plaque on it. He stepped through the very small dorm room and out into the hall with the tall, broad, blond man. There was his room number, 301, and underneath—
“There’s no plaque.”
“No. There’s one on that door though.” The tall, broad, blond man pointed across the narrow hallway at the door to 302, where, in neat bronze letters were the words “Residential Advisor.”
“Oh my god.” He could feel the blood rushing from his face. In any other world this would not be a horrible situation, but the housing coordinator for his section of the campus, his boss, was a horrifying man. While other areas around the school were pretty lax about the student residential advisors, Steve had been stuck with Mr. Fury, a horror story amongst RAs. The last thing Mr. Fury said to them as they wrapped up their final orientation-prep meeting was to make sure their rooms were ready before the students came.
“I want it to be a fun, welcoming place for the freshman,” he said, sounding neither fun nor welcoming, as he leaned over the desk looking at Steve and the other RAs. “I will inspect everything before the first wave of students come to make sure it looks… nice.”
Steve’s room was nice, in fact it was perfect. Except it wasn’t his room. He shoved past the tall, broad, blond man to grab his key from his desk, and shoved past the tall, broad, blond man again to go to room 302. His key was for 301, there’s no way it would fit into the keyhole for 302.
With a fate-sealing click, the key unlocked the door, which creaked ominously as it opened slowly, revealing a dark, un-moved-into room. It did not look fun. It did not look welcoming. It did not look nice.
You have got to be kidding me.
Steve swore. Loudly. The tall, broad, blond man who stood next to him peaking into 302 jumped. Then Steve swore again, a long, steady stream of words he would not say in front of his mother. He paced back and forth between the room he lived in and the room that was actually his, swearing all the while. The tall, broad, blond man finally grabbed him by the shoulder.
“It’s alright. I don’t care. We’ll just move the stuff. We’ve got all year.”
“It’s not that!” Steve tried to explain the situation with Mr. Fury but was only barely coherent. The tall, broad, blond man listened patiently, nodding sympathetically.
“Well, RA, I will help you get this room fixed up.”
“You will?”
“It would be my pleasure.”
The two men rushed back and forth between the two rooms, caring bags of laundry, boxes of books, and opting to just trade the mattresses, rather than deal switching the sheets, because there was no way that Steve could get the corners just right in time. The tall, broad, blond man was even able to deftly switch the posters Steve had put up, mirroring their spots from the old room on his new walls, while Steve tried to get his clothes back into his dresser the way they were before.
At 9:54am, they had finished, Steve sitting in his new desk chair, and the tall, broad, blond man flopping down onto Steve’s little, blue beanbag chair, making it look even smaller than it really was.
Steve saw a flash of red as Nat, the RA for the basement and first floor darted by coming up from the main stairs.
“Fury’s coming!” she called out. Then she peeped back in again, giving the two men a quizzical look before heading back down the hallway, and down the back stairs. Steve was about to stand up and follow her when Mr. Fury stood in the door. He looked around at Steve’s room, while Steve and the tall, broad, blond man sat quietly, waiting under his stern gaze.
“Not too bad, Rogers,” Mr Fury said at last. Steve felt a small, relieved sigh escape his chest. “How are you settling in, Odinson? Find your room okay?”
“Oh yeah. Just getting to know my RA,” the tall, broad, blond man said amicably. Steve found himself staring once again. How did he know Mr. Fury? What was going on? Was this a test? A conspiracy?
“Thor here was supposed to live in the transfer student hall, Rogers. They ran out of room, so he’s getting the single across from you.”
“Oh…” the explanation was sound. “That’s good.”
Suddenly, a low murmur came from the main staircase, growing ever louder. Mr. Fury quickly turned from Steve’s door and towards the back stairs, as the din of voices came closer and closer, leaving Steve to fend for himself against the ravenous hoards.
“That’s them,” Steve said. The tall, broad, blond man, Thor, stood up with Steve, and they headed towards the hall. “Thanks for helping me out. Sorry I took your room.”
“It’s no problem, man, really.” Thor stuck out a hand, and Steve reached out and shook it, the warmth of it sending an unexpected buzz up his arm. Thor’s wide smile was blinding. Everything around the man was light and warmth. He was like a human supernova with a dumb name.
Then the moment was gone, Thor was headed into Steve’s old room, giving Steve a quick thumbs up before disappearing behind the door with his one bag. It clicked closed and Steve felt oddly bereft staring at his old door. It was a nice room. The view was into the forest instead of onto the mini quad for Science Hill, which was not a bad view either.
“Oh look at this room! It’s so cute!” a mother cried out from down the hall. Steve took a deep breath, gave one last, lingering look to the textbook he was supposed to be studying from and walked onto the move-in day battlefield.